


Kitty Gifts

by takethembystorm



Series: Tea Break [31]
Category: Miraculous Ladybug
Genre: F/M, Fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-22
Updated: 2016-09-21
Packaged: 2018-08-16 15:50:54
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,087
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8108323
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/takethembystorm/pseuds/takethembystorm
Summary: Marinette starts getting gifts from a random admirer.  She makes sure to find out who.





	1. A Secret Admirer

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired by [this](http://thatpsychoraccoon.tumblr.com/post/145827642612).

Marinette suspects she knows exactly who’s leaving bouquets—not cheap ones, either, but beautiful tasteful bundles, arrangements of roses and camellias, carnations and daffodils, and occasionally a four-leafed clover hidden among the fragrant blooms—on her terrace twice a week, though there’s never a card or anything else to indicate who might be delivering them.

It was as Alya had said when she’d been on that Sherlock Holmes kick for a couple months. Motive and means. The means was obvious. Unless her mysterious suitor is somehow lugging around a ten meter ladder or a grappling hook, then climbing up in full view of a couple major streets without having the police come by and taze him, there’s more or less only one person that could possibly be leaving these on her terrace.

The motive, on the other hand. It’d taken her five minutes on Google to figure out exactly what the varied blossoms meant—and her kitty was going to get a right ding on the ear once she stopped blushing—but _why_ was he doing this? Sure, he was a flirt, but this seems excessive even for him.

One way or the other, though, she is going to get answers.

* * *

“Chat Noir.”

Chat Noir freezes cold and just barely manages to suppress the impulse to leap a couple meters straight into the air. He turns slowly.

Marinette detaches herself from the wall where she’s been lurking, arms crossed across her chest and her mouth set in a displeased scowl, and steps up to him. Her eyes flick briefly down to the bouquet clutched in his hands.

“What are you doing here?” Marinette says. His eyes flick around the balcony in a desperate search for escape routes before they settle on her. He swallows, and shuffles backwards a couple steps before straightening like a schoolboy brought up before his mum for being naughty. He’s almost a full head taller than her and half again as broad across the shoulders, but he seems no larger than Alix as she shrinks away under her steady gaze.  


“Uh,” he says, shuffling another half-step back. “Just, uh, just making a delivery!”

He smacks her in the face with the bouquet as he thrusts it towards her; she accepts it with as much grace as she can manage.

“See?” he says with a grin, wide and fixed. “Gift. From a friend.”

“Uh huh.” Marinette rubs a rose petal between her fingers, smelling the fragrance as a brief breeze wafts it towards her. “Would this friend happen to be blond?”

“Uh, yes?” Chat says.  


“Green eyes?”

“Yes?”

“Goes by the name of Chat Noir?”

“No?”

“Really.” Marinette sighs and drops the bouquet to her table as she takes a step closer, crossing her arms across her chest.

“How many other girls are you giving the royal treatment to?” she says.

His brows furrow in confusion.

“What do you mean?”

“Oh, come on,” Marinette says, reaching out and shoving lightly at his chest with her fingertips. “I figure that there’s maybe a dozen girls that you run around with regularly, knowing you.”

‘What?”

“Oh, don’t give me that,” Marinette says.

“Princess,” Chat says. His voice is quiet and resonant and soft, and Marinette finds her eyes drawn to his with the inexorability of rain to earth.

“There isn’t a harem,” he says, a quiet bubbling laugh in his words, beneath the sincerity. “It’s just you.”

“And Ladybug?” Marinette challenges. “You still flirt with her.”  


“Reflex,” Chat says. He sighs and looks away, towards the little green shoots in their planters. “When you crush on someone for that long and that hard, it’s a bit hard to give it up. I’m sorry.”

Marinette watches as Chat reaches out, brushing a claw-tip along a pale, fuzzy stem.

“Well,” she says finally. “No more flowers.”

His head snaps back to her, his breathing already quickening. Marinette holds up a hand.

“If you want to woo me,” she says, “bring me something I can plant. I stopped coming up with good excuses for why I was getting flowers after the first week, Chat, and I do not want to try to explain to my parents why a superhero in a skin-tight leather suit keeps showing up.”

“Oh.” He grins at her with sudden boyish joy. “Oh, okay.”

“Now shoo.” She fits motion to words and flaps her hands at him. “It’s gone midnight and tomorrow’s a school day.”

“When can I see you again?” Chat says, allowing himself to be buffeted along.

“Friday.” She reaches up and brushes aside a tuft of hair, pinching his real ear between index finger and thumb. He complains as she drags him down to her height.

He goes still as she kisses him lightly on a cheek.

“Thank you for the flowers, though,” she says as she releases him. He straightens slowly, staring into the middle distance.

Then his smile bursts into full radiance again as he swoops down, snatches up her hand in both of his, and presses a kiss to her knuckles.

“Friday, then,” he whispers to her before he vanishes into the night.  



	2. A Secret Visitor

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Marinette continues to get her little gifts.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Inspired by [this](http://re-unknown.tumblr.com/post/144280237034).

“I thought I told you no more flowers,” Marinette says, but she can’t hide the pleased flush that burns across her cheeks.  


“I got tired of waiting for those bulbs I brought you to bloom,” Chat Noir says as he leans over the railing, a bouquet of deep carmine carnations poorly concealed behind his back. He reaches up and cups her chin briefly; Marinette leans towards him and her brow touches his, warm through the magical material of his mask, for a quiet, soft moment.  


“May I come in, Princess?” he murmurs. She nods against him and steps back as Chat clambers over the railing and holds the flowers out to her with a nervous smile.

Marinette takes the flowers, and, without breaking eye contact, tosses them aside with a flippant flick of her wrist. Chat’s ears wilt, and his lip quivers.

“Not good enough,” Marinette drawls.

“Princess?”

Before he can react, Marinette grabs him by the shoulders, whirls him to the floor, and kisses him, hard and fast. After a moment he responds, his fingers reaching up to tangle in her hair, his teeth a gentle pressure on her bottom lip. Oh. He’s being gentle and considerate again.

Bugger that. She shoves her tongue into his mouth the instant he presents an opportunity.  


“Good enough?” Chat asks her when they’re forced to break apart for air.

“Mm,” she hums. “Ask me again in five minutes.”  



End file.
